


The brightest lights

by Lysore



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-09-25
Packaged: 2020-02-21 17:22:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,721
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18706909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lysore/pseuds/Lysore
Summary: After an attempt on her life, Senator Amidala has been forced to go into hiding. Her Jedi protector leads her to Tatooine and proceeds to react in a questionable manner to the death of his mother. Unfortunately for him, Padmé is more shocked by Anakin’s confession of killing the Tuskens than she lets on.Meanwhile, on Geonosis, Dooku’s appeal to his Grandpadawan meets more success than he had dared to hope for.





	1. The lesser evil

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You recognise some parts? It’s normal, some of the dialogues were taken from The Attack of the Clones movie ;)
> 
> Beyond this: not mine, no beta, no money made from this or any other fanwork of mine, thanks Fey for our many discussions because none of these Star Wars story would have seen the light of the day without them.
> 
> A small warning before you delve in: I am not focusing on Anakin's best personality traits in this chapter.

Tray in hands, Padmé carefully navigated down the stairs leading to the room Anakin had holed himself into ever since he had come back with his mother’s body. She took a few moments to blink against the sudden darkness compared to the blinding luminosity of the desert outside and to savor the natural coolness of the underground room before turning in Ani’s direction.

“I brought you something. Are you hungry?” she asked tentatively.

“The shifter broke,” Anakin answered in a toneless voice, turning empty eyes in her direction. “Life seems so much simpler when you're fixing things. I'm good at fixing things. Always was. But I couldn't…” he interrupted himself and rage seemed to fill him in an instant. 

“Why'd she have to die? Why couldn't I save her? I know I could have!”

Padmé successfully held back a flinch at the onslaught of violence permeating his words, though she couldn’t help her hands reflexively tightening on the tray. She took time to delicately put it down on the closest available surface before taking a step in her friend’s direction.

“Sometimes there are things no one can fix,” she said in her most soothing tone. “You're not all-powerful, Ani.”

“Well, I should be! Someday I will be. I will be the most powerful Jedi ever! I promise you. I will even learn to stop people from dying.”

“Anakin.”

For once, she couldn’t find her words though they usually came easy to her. The fervor, the deep seated desire for power Anakin was expressing and that she could see reflected in the mad glint in his eyes were unsettling her. She had been expecting grief, not this.

Anakin’s usually handsome features twisted into a grimace full of bitter hatred. 

“It's all Obi-Wan's fault!” he exploded. “He's jealous! He's holding me back!”

He threw the small power cell he held across the room. Though hit a wall far away from her, the sound of the small object crashing on the wall and clattering on the ground sent chills down her spine. The sound echoed in her mind and gained in strength, filling her ears until all she could hear was the sound of her ship exploding, the pained cry of one of the pilots, the gasp of Cordé’s last breath. A sob echoed the one she was desperately trying to swallow and she opened eyes she hadn’t been aware she had scrunched closed. 

Blinking against the bright dots filling her vision, it took her a few seconds to recognise the sound as coming from Anakin, who was now hunched on himself, his back to her.

“What's wrong, Ani?”

She hadn’t realized Cordé’s death had affected him so much. Oh. Wait. No. The heat, the blindingly white wall. This wasn’t coruscant, nor was it Naboo. They were on Tatooine. 

She could have hit herself. She had let herself be distracted. She had lost sight of the ‘here and now’ as she had once heard Jedi Master Qui-Gon Jinn warn Obi-Wan against, on a ship travelling towards the same planet she was currently on, what seemed like a lifetime ago. 

Except she couldn’t help but feel that something was amiss, that his anger wasn’t only due to the tragic loss of his mother. Blaming Obi-Wan seemed to be his way of coping with any emotionally challenging situation, he had done little else every time he was faced with a difficulty since she had met him again, so this didn’t seem to be an unusual behavior for him. On the other hand, the depth of his anger in reaction to the death of his mother was unexpected. She dreaded knowing what could have happened to put this emotion to the forefront of his mind, delaying the arrival of the expected grief until now.

Anakin straightened his back, still facing the wall, and she prepared to offer him comfort and reassurances to help him through this bleak time in his life. She knew loss intimately, had experienced it herself again only a few weeks ago. Perhaps they could mourn together and come out stronger from it.

“I–, I killed them.”

No.

“I killed them all.”

She had misheard.

“They're dead, every single one of them.” 

He turned to face her and plunged his eyes in hers, a defiant tilt to his chin and blind to her growing horror or to the tremors in her hands she couldn’t repress. She clenched her palms together and linked her fingers so he wouldn’t notice while he took a step towards her, and then another, until he was within arm’s reach of her, towering above her. “And not just the men, but the women, and the children too.”

A savage light was shining in his eyes and his tone was acquiring a gleeful edge. She took a step back. And then another. She didn't want to hear this. This couldn’t have happened. This was the sorrow talking, Anakin was lying.

“They're like animals and I slaughtered them like animals! I hate them!”

Anakin exhaled at the same time Padmé’s back hit the wall. She couldn’t retreat further away from him and the door was too far away. ‘Milady, I’m so sorry,’ her mind whispered to her as she was once again consumed by helplessness and terror. 

She watched with bated breath and trembling muscles as the tension seemed to drain from Ani’s body before he flopped gracelessly onto the ground. After a few tense heartbeats, she managed to force her own body to obey her again and she closed the distance between them to kneel beside him. She willed her uncontrollable trembling to cease, she could not show weakness, only understanding, only kindness, as though he were a cornered savage animal. He cared for her, he wouldn’t hurt her, she tried to reassure herself though she couldn’t shake the doubt that yes, he could if he wanted to. 

She shook the thought away and placed a light hand on Anakin’s shoulder. 

‘Careful,’ she told herself, scrambling to come up with anything she could say to make him calm down for good. ‘Go slow. He needs to see the hand coming, you cannot afford to startle him.’

“To be angry is to be human.” The words left her mouth without her accord. Where had they come from? Anger was a human feeling, yes, but Anakin had just admitted to having murdered an entire tribe of desert dwellers! Was this all that amounted of her backbone? She shouldn’t be enabling him. 

“I'm a Jedi,” she heard him say through the shock that had stilled her mind. She dared breath a sigh of relief and sagged on his shoulder, sliding her arm around it to hug and comfort him. Yet, she could detect no sorrow in his voice, only a mild disappointment. “I know I'm better than this.”

‘Milady, I’m so sorry,’ her mind whispered again, ‘I’ve failed you, Senator.’ Padmé choked through a sob, desperately wishing she was back with her handmaidens, safe with them. She made sure her touch was featherlight as she moved her fingers to card them through Anakin’s short hair.

Cordé had never failed her. Padmé had. And she would make sure to be worth her sacrifice.   

.

Shmi’s funeral was simple, but this didn’t make it any less heartbreaking. 

Padmé had spent the night walking on eggshells around Anakin and his mercurial moods, terrified of inadvertently triggering one, yet not daring to leave him alone when her presence had seemed to appease him so much. After a few hours, of him clinging to her side, he had begun to whisper delirious possessive promises about keeping her safe from harm so they could live together forever, and never losing anyone dear to him again, and leaving his side had seemed impossible.

She had opted to stay a few steps behind the mourning family. Anakin had wanted her at the front, by his side, but  after one of the most tedious negotiations of her life, she had managed to make him accept that out of everyone present, Shmi had known her the least and the Lars deserved better than her intruding on such a private and emotionally loaded event. 

From her place behind Owen and Beru, as far away from Anakin as she could, she kept her eyes fixed on the back of Anakin’s bowed head. He was standing beside Cliegg, the wind bringing his parting words to his mother to her ears.

“I wasn't strong enough to save you, Mom. I wasn't strong enough. But I promise, I won't fail again.” 

Despite the mid-afternoon burning heat weighting down on her, Padmé felt an ice-cold shiver chill her from head to toe. The despair mixing with the raw determination in Ani’s voice were bringing back to the forefront of her mind his heated gazes back on Naboo, his declarations of adoration even though they hadn’t met in years and were virtually strangers. 

He had this strange obsession with her based on an old and distorted memory of her. She had waved it off the past few weeks, she had even managed to delude herself into thinking that they had gotten reacquainted now. She had made herself believe that his boundless devotion to her and jealousy over who she bestowed her affection on, while still stifling, was sweeter now that it was aimed at her and not the person he had built her up to be in the past few years. Though now that she had seen the lengths he would go for the objects of his devotion, his behavior was making her even more uncomfortable than before. She knew he was thinking of her when promising his mother he wouldn’t lose anyone again and this frightened her more than the attempt on her life that took Cordé away from her had. 

His words also brought back last night’s declaration that he would seek to achieve immortality. She knew little of the Jedi, but none of this yearning for power and control over life’s natural events and over other sentient beings had existed in either Obi-Wan or Master Jinn ten years ago when she had met them. She hadn’t perceived any such desire of possessing and dominating both things and people in Obi-Wan when they had talked before she had to flee to Naboo and he had to leave in pursuit of the Bounty Hunter.

“I miss you… so much,” came Anakin’s strangled confession.

Padmé turned her head away, giving Anakin as much privacy as she could. Grief could make people say anything, and she could think of little worse than losing a family member. Things should get better once the raw wounds of his grief started to scab over.

Except grief of this scale could also bring to the surface truths and desires one strove to keep hidden or weren’t aware of.

Shapes coming in their direction from her ship in the periphery of her vision pulled her from her thoughts. She turned towards them and squinted to see through the sun’s blinding light that got reflected on the fine white sand. She frowned. It was R2 and 3PO. Glancing back at Anakin, she saw he had dropped to his knees by his mother’s grave. 

She would handle whatever message R2 came bearing on her own.

She reached the droids midway and waved away 3PO’s long-winded ego stroking platitudes, addressing R2 directly instead.

“Do you have a message for me?”

She did not understand Binary, but the Astromech seemed to answer by the positive. Not for the first time, she appreciated how the droid’s programming included an emulation of emotions so people like her could have a measure of understanding of what it was saying.

“3PO, go over there and watch over Anakin but do not disturb him until he addresses you first.”

“But Miss Padmé, the message was addressed to Master Anakin!” the droid protested in that grating tone she was used to hearing from lobbyists courting her favor for a motion or another.

“I shall deal with it. When, and only when,” she repeated to make sure the pompous droid understood, “Anakin has finished mourning, you will tell him to join me on the ship and I will bring him up to speed. In the meantime, you are to stay  here and leave him alone. Lead the way R2.”

She spared a glance behind herself to check if the protocol droid was obeying her order – he was – and she followed the cheerfully whistling droid back to her personal diplomatic vessel. The Force willing, it would be Obi-Wan calling and she would be able to share with him the horrifying truth of what had happened over the course of the past few days. This was too great a burden for her to bear alone, and as the closest thing Anakin had to a guardian, Obi-Wan deserved to know as soon as possible. 

Together, they would find a solution, even if that solution was to arrest Anakin, or at the very least to prevent him from ever becoming a Knight. On the first solo mission he had gotten, Anakin had gone and committed genocide. As much as it pained her, as much as it would destroy Obi-Wan, as much as it would annihilate Anakin, Knights of the Jedi Order were entrusted with great responsibilities and couldn't fail even under duress. Anakin had proven he didn’t have the shoulders to bear those responsibilities and she wouldn’t be able to look at herself in a mirror ever again if because she had remained silent, he slipped again in the future. He had told her he thought he was ready to stand on his own and be a Knight. Well he would have to face the accountability that came with the title. And hopefully, this would mean he would be removed as her escort and guard too. 

R2 lost no time in playing the message waiting for her.

“Anakin, my long-range transmitter has been knocked out. Retransmit this message to Coruscant.” 

Padmé paused the message and used the emergency codes the Council had given Anakin who in turn had shared them with R2 to open a high priority direct line with the Council. She was connected to the Council after only a handful of seconds of waiting. She must have interrupted them in the middle of a session. She unpaused the message.

Was Obi-Wan in need of help? Had he put himself in more danger than he could handle when tracking down the Bounty Hunter for her? She wouldn’t be able to withstand it if another person died for her. She didn’t know Obi-Wan as well as Cordé, but she still considered him a friend, if only for everything he had done for both her and Naboo all those years ago.

Though she was honest enough with herself to also acknowledge that deep down, she was afraid of what it would do to Anakin if his remaining parental figure was taken away from him. Even more than that, she was terrified at the idea of how anything having happened to Obi-Wan could impact Anakin’s future behavior towards her. 

She wrung her hands together and hoped for the best.

“I have tracked the Bounty Hunter Jango Fett to the droid foundries on Geonosis. The Trade Federation is to take delivery of a droid army here and it is clear that Viceroy Gunray is behind the assassination attempts on Senator Amidala.” The image was jumpy and the sound gritty, but enough words reached Padmé for her to allow herself a brief smile of triumph. She had known it was the Trade Federation all along. 

“The Commerce Guilds and the Corporate Alliance have both pledged their armies to Count Dooku and are forming a– Wait. Wait.”

Her all too brief vindictive joy made way to worry again when she saw Obi-Wan ignite his lightsaber to fight several droidekas until the message got interrupted and Master Windu’s face replaced Obi-Wan’s on the holo-transmitter.

“More happening on Geonosis, I feel, than has been revealed,” she could hear Yoda say in the background.

Obviously, she wanted to snort, though she remained silent. Anyone with common sense would know something was going amiss when at the same time that several members of the Senate were pushing forward a bill to arm the Republic, a few consortiums of planets proved to have already been gathering their own private armies, while at the same time they were trying to take her down when she was the most vocal opponent to the Republic creating its own army. It was too great of a coincidence to truly be one. Some people, both Separatists and Republic loyalists, wanted a galaxy-sized war to happen.

“I agree,” Windu said in his direction before turning to face her. “Senator, we will deal with Count Dooku. The most important thing for you is to stay where you are. Please relay to Padawan Skywalker that his first priority still is to ensure your safety at all costs.”

The simple thought of having to spend more time alone in Anakin’s company made her recoil. Not after what he had just confessed to her. Not when he was still so emotionally unbalanced. Especially not after all the heated stares he was still levelling at her when putting his mother in the ground of all things. She couldn’t stay alone with him anymore, it was beyond her. More than that: Anakin was the Jedi’s responsibility, it wasn’t her job to put him back together and hope it would happen faster than the time it would take for him to destroy her. But before she could protest, the Jedi had cut the communication off. She gritted her teeth.

“Stay right here R2,” she ordered sharply when she saw the little droid leave the cockpit.

She needed some time to think before bringing the news over to Anakin.

Of course no one would ever look for her on Tatooine, though if the Trade Federation’s blockade of her planet a decade ago had taught her anything, it was that the communication she had just had with the Council could easily have been used to track down her current whereabouts. 

Furthermore, though Anakin would undoubtedly go to great lengths to protect her, she wasn’t sure she wanted to know what his limits were, nor what he would expect of her in return. They had barely rekindled their acquaintance a month ago yet he was speaking to her as though he had been obsessing everyday over her, building up this imaginary persona that looked like her but wasn’t her, and expecting her to conform to this figment of his imagination he had put on a pedestal. She couldn’t do that. 

And now, with everything that had happened since they had landed on Tatooine, she was afraid of what his reaction would be should he ever discover she wasn’t the person he was persuaded she was.

She needed to leave, to go to a person she knew and trusted. Someone strong enough to ward Anakin off because while she knew how to defend herself and had the utmost faith in her abilities should she have to face the average opponent, Anakin was anything but an average fighter. Unfortunately, the only person she trusted who fit that description had just been captured by the Trade Federation.

She activated the ship’s map of the galaxy. Geonosis was less than a parsec away. It would only take her a couple of hours to reach it, while it would take the Order nearly a week to travel to Geonosis. They would never be able to reach Obi-Wan in time before serious harm befell him, she was sure of it.

She stood up and walked to the ship’s door, followed closely by R2, and discretely peered out. The Lars had retreated back inside their home but Anakin was still kneeling in the sand, 3PO obeying her orders and staying a few meters behind him, silent for once in its life.

R2’s quiet interrogative whistle pulled her out of her thoughts and she turned to look at the droid. It was a unique droid, she speculated. Not only had it saved her ship when she had fled Naboo, but it had also taken part in the destruction of the droid control ship when she had taken her planet back. Though she didn’t doubt Anakin’s piloting talents and the Force had supposedly helped him, Ani had only been a nine year old child who had never flown a starfighter before. R2 had to have helped him. Since then, she had often used R2’s unique abilities to her advantage. Now seemed as good a time as any to do it again.

“Ready to go and save a Jedi R2?”

The Astromech bumped in her legs, beeping excitedly, before taking off towards the cockpit. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Padmé answered, palming her ship’s door closed. 

The moment the locking mechanism was engaged, relief hit her like a tidal wave, and she had to lean on the door for support for a few seconds. 

It was strange, how the idea of sailing towards the people who had put a bounty on her head seemed safer than staying for one more second on this accursed sand planet, she reflected, feeling a hysterical giggle force her way out of her throat.

A loud and impatient beep reached her ears. This was her cue.

A smile on her lips, she let the anticipation of the upcoming adventure chase away the last of her fears and hurried to the cockpit, settling in the pilot’s seat.

She would figure out a plan on the way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you have a moment, I would love to know your thoughts about this, and happy Star Wars day everyone!


	2. The darkest shadows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan wakes up in a cell. The Count's first attempts to play on their shared acquaintance of Qui-Gon doesn't go as well as expected, but perhaps the bare truth could have more of an impact?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, if you recognise some parts, it is because some of the dialogues were taken from The Attack of the Clones movie.
> 
> Otherwise, like usual: not mine, no beta, no money made from this.

The sight that greeted Obi-Wan when he awoke was, if he had to describe it with one word, spinning. It took him a few turns of the room to realize his eyes were not playing a trick on him because of a concussion or another, but that he was, in fact, suspended in a rotating energy field and literally spinning as a result. 

Unfortunately, his headache, blurry sight, and nausea – not helped by the spinning – told him he probably had a concussion too. 

He was still trying to hold back waves of nausea when the door to his cell opened and the rotations mercifully stopped. He took a few breaths through his nose, swallowing thick and bitter saliva several times before he felt confident enough to face his captor without an embarrassing accident happening. 

He blinked a few times until a familiar face came into focus. He couldn't say he was surprised, though he certainly hadn't thought his Grandmaster would have come to interrogate him himself, given his important position in the Separatist Confederation. 

“Traitor,” he greeted him, and was proud when his voice came out strong without a hint of weakness and no trace of slurring. 

“Oh, no, my friend. This is a mistake, a terrible mistake. They have gone too far. This is madness.”

The Count seemed to be sincere in his regrets, though Obi-Wan could be sure of nothing, his grasp on the Force had been elusive ever since he had woken up a few minutes prior and he was quite certain the other man was faking his concerns. 

“I thought you were the leader here, Dooku.”

“This had nothing to do with me, I assure you. I will petition immediately to have you set free,” the Count's crisp diction rang melodiously in his ears, distracting him from the actual words. They were probably lies anyways. He squinted to make the two Counts merge into one again.

“I hope it doesn't take too long. I have work to do.”

“May I ask why a Jedi Knight is all the way out here on Geonosis?”

“I've been tracking a Bounty Hunter named Jango Fett. Do you know him?” Obi-Wan answered airily with what he hoped could pass as a cocky smirk. 

“There are no Bounty Hunters here that I am aware of. The Geonosians don't trust them.”

“Who can blame them? But he is here, I can assure you.”

Dooku nodded gravely. They were both playing their parts in this farce. Obi-Wan supposed he should be grateful his opponent was in a good enough mood to indulge in some superficial banter and hadn't resorted to torture yet. 

“It is a great pity that our paths have never crossed before, Obi-Wan. Qui-Gon always spoke very highly of you. I wish he were still alive, I could use his help right now.”

Obi-Wan's eyes narrowed. The time for warm up had come to an end, though why Dooku had decided to cut the chase so quickly, Obi-Wan's swimming mind couldn't fathom at the moment. He knew, however, that playing on their shared connection to Qui-Gon was a dirty move. The Count had poor taste, really.

“Qui-Gon Jinn would never join you.”

The Jedi Order had been Qui-Gon's life. For all his criticism of it, Qui-Gon had loved the Order more than he had ever loved anything or anyone else. More than Tahl. Probably even more than the Chosen One prophecy should it have come down to it. He would have fought whomever threatened it until the bitter end, be it Dooku or anyone else. He would never have left it under any circumstances. 

“Don't be so sure, my young Jedi. You forget that he was once my Apprentice, just as you were once his.” 

Yes and Obi-Wan clearly remembered how even years down the line, Qui-Gon still held Melida-Daan against him at times, how Qui-Gon would bring it up during some of their arguments, a fact Dooku clearly was unaware of because while he had known the man first, Obi-Wan had known him last. 

“He knew all about the corruption in the Senate but he would never have gone along with it if he had learned the truth as I have.”

That was right, Obi-Wan found himself nodding before stopping the movement short when he realised his head was moving. Qui-Gon had never approved of the Senate's corruption but this was hardly fresh news and had nothing in common with him leaving the Order. Qui-Gon had always fought hard within the Order for more independence from the Senate, he would have kept walking down that path.

“The truth?” The Count had minutely relaxed when Obi-Wan had seemingly agreed to his point, so Obi-Wan decided to humor his interlocutor in the hope of gathering more information.

“The truth. What if I told you the Republic was now under the control of the Dark Lord of the Sith?”

“No, that's not possible. The Jedi would be aware of it.”

Obi-Wan was reeling and letting his mouth work without his input, even as he was trying to focus as hard as he could. The Count looked so intent, so earnest. Of all the times he had to be unable to focus properly, why did it have to be now? He shook his head in an attempt to force Dooku's silhouette back into full clarity but regretted it immediately when his brain seemed to hit the inside of his skull and ricochet several times. The resulting blinding pain made the room swim around him so much he gagged against the bile rising in his throat. 

He thought Dooku was continuing but the sounds all around him were drowned by a deafening roar.

There was a too warm hand on his forehead, arms lowering him on blessedly cool ground, and then there was nothing but welcoming darkness. 

. 

When Obi-Wan opened his eyes again, the fog seemed to have dissipated from his head. A glance around the brightly lit room told him that while he was in a bed, and probably not even in a cell anymore, the bed was far too comfortable for that. The place was less likely to spin on itself too, which was something he could now appreciate to its full value. 

As though summoned by his awakening, the door opened to let Dooku enter. Was he monitoring him in the Force? Oh the Force. Obi-Wan closed his eyes in blissful relief and let out a sigh of contentment when he felt It reach back to his prodding, wrapping him in Its ever welcoming embrace. It had only been for a few hours but he had missed this connection so much.

“My apologies, Grandpadawan, I was unaware your health had suffered during your captivity, else I would have ensured you had been seen to before our first encounter,” the Count said while gracefully lowering himself in a chair at Obi-Wan's bedside. 

He wasn't even chained to it, Obi-Wan noticed. The Count truly was trying to reach out to him. He didn't know what to make of this strange show of hospitality. It had to be a trap, didn’t it? But why take so many chances? Healing him wouldn't benefit Dooku in any way when taking advantage of Obi-Wan's previous vulnerable state would have had more chance of yielding Dooku the information he was certainly seeking. 

“Are you unafraid I will try to escape?”

“As I attempted to explain before, your capture was a terrible mistake. Had I known you were seeking a meeting with me, I would of course have obliged you as swiftly as I could.”

Why was he serving him an excuse for his presence on a silver platter? The discovery of Obi-Wan's presence on Geonosis possessed all the markers of a diplomatic disaster, which Dooku should relish in exploiting. This situation made no sense. Or at least it made no sense under the assumption that Dooku was viewing Obi-Wan as an enemy. 

“You have my thanks,” Obi-Wan answered cautiously. 

“Unfortunately, as much as I would like to let you gather your bearings and take this conversation to a more comfortable setting, I am afraid our time is running short.”

Obi-Wan nodded. At least, he could think properly this time. He drew on the Force, using it to sharpen his mind even more, and attuned his presence to Dooku's to better ascertain the veracity of his upcoming words. He could have sworn he had imagined the approving glint in the Count's dark eyes if he hadn't felt it ripple ever so discreetly in the Force, barely a blur on the otherwise calm surface he projected. 

“The Dark Side of the Force has clouded the Jedi’s vision. You know as well as I do that a thousand years ago, our predecessors built the Temple on the remains of the Coruscanti Sith Temple. We were supposed to use this to monitor the Darkness. Unfortunately for us, It is too insidious and patient, and eventually, It proved stronger than us. After a few generations, we became complacent, and even Yoda fell prey to Its deception. The old Temple’s taint clings to all of us now, it makes us angrier, more deceitful, it weakens our connection to the Light. Coruscant remains as it ever was, Sith dominion. So long as we keep looking straight into the Light, we shall be blinded by it and it will be impossible to truly see through the Dark's concealing fog that surrounds us all.”

Obi-Wan listened to everything with baited breath. His first instinct was to deny everything. Except the Count believed in what he was saying: one would have to be a fool not to see the raw honesty and yearning to be understood the Count was exuding within the Force, and Obi-Wan was no fool. 

There was not an ounce of untruth to his words and no-one, not even someone as skilled as Dooku was in the ways of the Force, could completely conceal the disturbances outright lies left in the Force. While it was possible to lie, if one adopted a mindset where the words could make sense, Obi-Wan couldn’t imagine a point of view that didn’t support Dooku’s affirmations. 

As horrifying as it was, Dooku was telling the truth, and his beliefs likely matched reality. Amongst other things, Obi-Wan had heard reports of Initiates being less even tempered than they used to be. Though at the time he had easily dismissed these allegations as unreliable nostalgia, he couldn’t help but remember how he himself had worried upon seeing Anakin’s bright Force presence become muddy as the years went on, though it was still light at its core, thank the Force. He wouldn’t be able to tell now, it  has been too long since Anakin had let him past his many layers of shields, but his overall presence was still Light and that was what mattered the most. But most of all, he had noticed his own connection to the Force always seemed to become stronger and clearer the furthest away from Coruscant he was. 

He had never told anyone about this, had never dared to reach out to one of his fellow Jedi for fear of this deficiency of his being discovered. A quick check of his mental shields showed him they were unbreached. The Count hadn't broken into his mind, hadn’t even approached it. Obi-Wan doubted he would have done this anyway, it would have destroyed all of Dooku’s efforts in getting Obi-Wan to listen to him with an open mind. No, the only way the Count would have been able to know this would be if he had felt it himself firsthand. 

Obi-Wan frowned. “Is that why you decided to Fall? To see through this fog?”

“My young friend,” the Count leant forward to whisper conspiratorially, “who said anything about Falling?”

Now this was the first untruth Dooku had told Obi-Wan. The corruption of Darkness clung to him the way it had Maul: Dooku had Fallen, there was no doubt of it. Yet, this untruth  impossibly didn’t feel like one. Before Obi-Wan could open his mouth to call him out on his statement, Dooku opened himself for Obi-Wan to investigate his Force presence. 

What he found had him stare at the Count in open mouthed wonder mixed with horror. There, buried deep beneath layers upon layers of ever blackening darkness, there was a core of pure light. 

“The brightest lights cast the darkest shadows,” the Count whispered, a wicked smile stretching his lips while he slowly and methodically pulled his shields back in place. Obi-Wan caught a glimpse of light pulsing at regular intervals and generating waves of impenetrable darkness in its wake before he was gently pushed back into his own mind.

Dooku had found a way to Fall without truly Falling. Obi-Wan fought to scrape his jaw off of the floor but he still had troubles wrapping his mind around what he had just witnessed. This was supposed to be impossible. Either you Fell or you did not. There was no middle ground… Though hadn't he always heard that only the Sith dealt in absolutes? 

Obi-Wan head was spinning. If what Dooku had managed was replicable, it changed everything, went against all he had d been taught since infancy. 

“The Council felt I was taking things too far when they didn’t even know the true extent of my experiments. I had no other choice. Though it is safer, the taint still clings to the outer edges of one's presence and it required strict discipline at all times to keep it under control. I couldn't stay, especially in light of my discoveries.”

The Count moved even closer to Obi-Wan, voice dropping down an octave. 

“You must believe me Obi-Wan, none of us could see hundreds of senators falling under the influence of the Sith Lord, Darth Sidious. But he is here, on Coruscant, manipulating the Darkness to conceal himself and enhance his powers.”

Dooku’s eyes shone with a fervent, desperate light Obi-Wan had never thought could exist in such a proud and collected man. This, more than anything, made Obi-Wan willing to believe him. Jard Dooku wasn't a man who knelt or begged to be believed, not under any circumstance. He would fight the pressure until he broke under it in the most destructive fashion before he ever allowed himself to bow or even bend a little. It was a trait Obi-Wan knew well: Dooku had transmitted to Qui-Gon, who in turn had passed it on to Obi-Wan. 

Obi-Wan felt cold sweat trickle down his back, making his tunic stick to it in an uncomfortable manner. It couldn't be true. It shouldn't be true. Yet, it seemed to be. 

Dooku placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s forearm, but he was squeezing too tight for it to be anything but painful for the both of them.

“The Viceroy of the Trade Federation was once in league with this Darth Sidious but he was betrayed ten years ago by the Dark Lord. He came to me for help. He told me everything. You must join me, Obi-Wan, and together we will destroy the Sith!”

Obi-Wan frowned. Before he left, Dooku had been a Sentinel, and an exceptionally good one at that. He had been the one tasked with investigating the origins of the Sith who had killed Qui-Gon. He had stepped down from his place as High Councilor and left the Order altogether shortly after having reported to the Council that he had made headway in said investigation. Could he be working undercover? No, if he were, he would rely on the support of the Order, he wouldn’t be trying to convince Obi-Wan of the soundness of his actions.

“There is something more isn’t it?”

Though not a hint of emotions crossed Dooku’s face, there was a shudder in the Force, cold and clammy. 

“I have met him, Obi-Wan.” 

Obi-Wan knew this echo in the Force well, he had both emitted it and felt it in others before. Sheer terror. Obi-Wan knew from the little Qui-Gon had told him of his old Master that Dooku was ambitious, he was greedy, and he revelled in luxury and power, but none of these aspirations transpired at the moment. Those traits would probably always stay with the man, but this was not what bound him to this Sith Lord. Because Obi-Wan was certain of it now, Dooku had indeed met him. And he had been terribly outmatched, so much he had been bound into servitude to this person.

Obi-Wan felt cold seep into his bones. Dooku was the greatest Master of Makashi the Order had seen since the Sith Wars. If he, who practised this form uniquely suited to lightsaber combat and whose prowesses in the Force were widely recognized within the Order, had been so badly outclassed he had been coerced into doing the Sith’s biding, how bad were the odds of defeating this Sith Lord? Yet, Dooku was still fighting: though his methods were debatable, he had managed to deceive said Sith and the entire galaxy with him into believing he had Fallen. There was still hope.

Obi-Wan did not know if the Count had chosen to reveal his true allegiance to him because he had been Qui-Gon’s Apprentice, or if he simply had been the first Jedi willing to listen to him, but he would not betray that trust.

“I know this is a lot to take in Obi-Wan, but you must believe me. I thought I could take him down on my own but I have realized I cannot. I need your help.”

Obi-Wan frowned. He let his eyes unfocus until he couldn’t make out the Count’s patiently waiting silhouette and immersed himself into a light meditation. He let his emotions flow through him until he could rise above them to examine things in the most objective way he could.

Dooku had said the Sith Lord controlled hundreds of politicians. They were someone who had known Naboo enough to mastermind its invasion. They knew the planet intimately enough they had been able to train he who must have been his Apprentice to fight in the Palace: Obi-Wan had viewed the security footage that had recorded the fight enough times to realize how lucky he had been to defeat the Sith, when in hindsight it was clear the Zabrak had strung he and Qui-Gon along all fight long, and had chosen to lead them into the power generator instead of being cornered into it as Obi-Wan, and likely Qui-Gon as well, had believed at the time. 

All the blood drained from Obi-Wan’s face. This opportunity could have allowed one person to derive a significant boost in power from this invasion. The realization threw him out of his meditative trance more harshly than he had braced himself for and he vacillated. 

“Yesterday, you said the Republic was now under the control of a Sith Lord,” Obi-Wan quoted, fighting to find any explanation that could contradict the words that were leaving his mouth.

Deep down, he was hoping for Dooku to refute this, to lie, to prove himself untrustworthy. But there was no mistaking the bone deep relief evident in the Count’s sagging shoulders or how his hand finally loosened from the death grip it had on Obi-Wan's forearm.

“He has been planning this for decades, he has plans for every contingency, probably more than the few I have been able to learn of. He is so powerful Obi-Wan! And he is building an Empire.”

“An Empire?”

“Yes. My position is only temporary, I am disposable to him. He wants the Chosen One by his side to enforce his orders in his upcoming dictatorship. He believes that with him as his servant, he will be able to destroy the Light and reign supreme over the galaxy for however long he has left to live.”

“Anakin is not the Chosen One. The Chosen One story is just that, a story,” Obi-Wan hissed through clenched teeth. How many times would he have to repeat that? People needed to stop viewing Anakin as some sort of hero of old, a lone savior absolving them all of personal responsibility for their actions and inactions.

Obi-Wan blinked. Oh. Of course. He should have seen this coming. It was the Council meeting with Qui-Gon all over again. Dooku truly bought in this prophecy and wanted Anakin, not him. He made to shrug the Count's hand off but the older man reaffirmed his grip. 

“I should hope so.”

Obi-Wan's mind went to a stuttering halt. “You… hope so?”

“Yes. Have you ever truly reflected on the meaning of this prophecy?”

“He will destroy the Sith and restore the balance between Light and Dark.” 

“And how would he do that, my young friend? By destroying the Sith? It would unbalance the Force in favor of the Light. By annihilating the Jedi, as Sidious hopes? Now, this would mean the Dark would unbalance the Force.”

“So the only solution is the destruction of both,” Obi-Wan finished with a white voice.

“I have investigated him, you know? Your Padawan. It was one of my most thorough searches if I might say so myself. His mother was in Gardula the Hutt’s service when she became pregnant. You know how the Hutts are, they can often lend their properties to help secure deals. Fortunately for us, she was in Gardula's custody for a rather short amount of time, during which the Hutt only dealt with nine customers able to impregnate a human female.”

Obi-Wan grimaced at the implications he had never wanted to consider, but Dooku pushed forward, either unawares or unwilling to soften his discourse in the face of Obi-Wan’s discomfort. 

“I have successfully managed to gather DNA samples from of all but three of these men and I have obtained recently a sample from the progeny of another man. I would like you to get me some DNA from your Apprentice. I would have gotten my hands on some, but I wasn’t able to access the Temple’s medical database since I left with, I must admit, too much hurry and not enough preparations. I will keep on tracking down the last two in the meantime.” 

“Why?” Obi-Wan asked, torn between horror at the Count’s implications and morbid curiosity. “How could this be of any interest to you?”

“Because I want to know if we stand a chance!” the Count bellowed. 

He stood up and paced along the walls of the small room, his breathing erratic and his strides short and rapid, a drastic counterpoint to his usually smooth and regal strides.

“If the prophecy is real, if he is the Chosen One, the Destroyer of Worlds, then we are all dead. So why fight? Why drag on the inevitable? Everything is ready, Sidious's power is secure, the war will happen, the Jedi are going to die, all of them. None of us trained Force users will survive your Padawan’s trail of destruction because he shall Fall. You and I are both aware your Apprentice has come to value the Chancellor's advices more than yours of late.” 

Obi-Wan wanted to disagree, but he could only swallow back a bitter grimace lest he be called a liar. Anakin wouldn’t Fall though. He wouldn’t. It was impossible. He was a better man than both of them and if there was one thing his encounter with Maul when he was nine had taught him, it was to stay far away from the Dark Side of the Force. Obi-Wan couldn’t count the amount of nightmares about Maul he had pulled Anakin out of at the beginning of his Padawanship.

“But if he is not the Chosen One,” Dooku stopped abruptly his frenetic pacing and turned on his heel to look Obi-Wan dead in the eyes. “If he is not, then we still have hope. If he is not, we can fight and perhaps make a difference. But if the Force wants us dead, how could we ever survive?”

Obi-Wan was at a loss for words. Dooku was unhinged. There was no other explanation. How else could he explain the absurdities spewing out of his mouth? The Chosen One prophecy had never been one of doom but of a new Golden Age of the Force.

From a certain point of view.

The Count’s commlink beeped before Obi-Wan could find an answer. 

While he left the room to pick up the communication, Obi-Wan tried to force everything to make sense. Some of it did. But prophecies were fickle things, vague, subject to many interpretations. And more importantly, if his tutelage under Qui-Gon and his experience of the Unifying Force had ever taught him anything, it was that the future was ever changing. 

The Force observed and advised, but It always let every being exercise their free will. This had been a point of contention he'd had with Qui-Gon. This was also the reason why Obi-Wan had never put much stock in the Chosen One prophecy, no matter how appealing it had been of late, especially with Anakin’s unheard of Midi-chorian count… For humans, a voice suspiciously similar to the Count’s whispered in his mind. His count was off the chart for a human, so high it nearly put his health at risk, but for several other species, Anakin’s Midi-count would rank on the low part of the average. 

Dooku came back before Obi-Wan could finish putting his thoughts back in order.

“As much as I would enjoy continuing this conversation, I am afraid a friend of yours has just requested the authorization to land on the planet, probably in the hopes of negotiating your release. Should she live up to her reputation, I have a feeling we shall all find the result of this particular discussion to our liking.”

He placed a hand on Obi-Wan’s shoulder and squeezed it briefly. 

“I do not think we will have more time to speak openly for quite some time, so should a particular DNA sample find its way into my possession, I will take this as an agreement on your part to my proposal of partnership. May the Force be with you Grandpadawan, whichever the shade.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for sticking around for a second chapter :D  
> If you have a moment, I would love to know your thoughts about this


	3. Non-aggressive negotiations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé has arrived on the edge of the Geonosian atmosphere in the hopes of rescuing Obi-Wan. Hopefully, delivering herself to the doorstep of those who wish for her death isn't going to be too self detrimental.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: the usual, not mine, no money derived from it

****When Geonosis came into view, Padmé found herself unfortunately still bereft of any working plan. Plans were Dormé’s thing! She was the one who analyzed all possible outcomes of any given situation while Padmé was supposed to listen to the plans and then use only the parts beneficial to her when she sized an opening she could use and ran head first through it.

She reclined in her piloting seat and sighed, reviewing her situation. She was in a diplomatic and as such unarmed ship, with only an Astromech droid to accompany her. She had thought herself quite clever, striking several birds with one stone by being able to go and rescue Obi-Wan, investigate the people who wanted her dead, and most of all putting a safe distance between her and Anakin.

But now that she had reached her destination, quite the problem was rising to meet her: the people on this planet still wanted her dead. And she was about to place herself at their mercy.

Perhaps the blunt route could work.

She went to the sleeping quarters and rummaged in her drawers until she found a dress similar to the one her handmaidens, and herself on occasion, used to wear when she was still queen. She changed into it, taking particular care to make sure she cowl covered most of her face. She eyed her blaster before turning away from it, sighing. She would love to carry it with her but it would go against the farce she was planning to pull out, so it would have to stay on her ship. If it came to it, the heavy over layer of sleeves of her gown had been embroidered to hide vibroblades inside that would look like shiny ornaments to an unaware onlooker.

She walked back to the cockpit and directed R2 to help her place the ship in orbit around the planet, close enough to appear to be waiting for approval to land, yet still at a safe enough distance so the planet’s defenses shouldn’t be able to reach them. She adjusted her cowl one last time, smoothed her hands down her dress, and initiated contact with the Geonosian space port.

A grumpy looking Geonosian’s face appeared on her communication screen and emitted a few sounds. Her ship’s built-in translating feature added subtitles at the bottom of the same screen when it recognised the dialect.

“I am Senate representative Naberrie of Naboo,” she answered. “I come here on behalf of Senator Amidala. I am expected by Count Jard Dooku of Serenno.”

Not for the first time, she was grateful of the old Nubian custom to have their elected monarch choose a name for themselves when their put forward their candidature. It was a way for the princes and princesses of Theed to show they were leaving their old lives behind and would dedicate all of their time to their function as the planet’s leader, until their term came to an end. Then and only then would they rekindle contact with their kin and start assuming their birth name again. When she became a Senator right after her second term as queen ended, she hadn’t seen the need in using her old name again when ‘Amidala’ was already so well known.

Though she hardly had gone to great lengths to conceal her real name, she had never used it in the political sphere either, only her decoy persona had, and Padmé was a common enough Nubian name that using it granted her a fair measure of anonymity. This came in handy when trying to stall the occasional paparazzi’s attempt to pry into her life.

“If you want to meet with the Count of Serenno, you should seek him on his planet, Senate representative. Now be on your way before we make you leave. Republic ships are not welcome here.”

Padmé discreetly glanced at the control panels of her ship, which showed its shields were in perfect working order. Nothing that would stop a planet’s anti-space defenses, but it was enough to reassure her. She straightened in her seat and insisted. She had convinced people to her views under worse odds. She had managed to make a few Senators trust her after the diplomatic debacle that had been her intervention in the Senate while her planet was under siege before going back and solving the problem herself without the Senate’s approval. Yet she had managed, she wouldn’t lose to this Planet Security guard.

“I am certain you understand that in these troubled times, a suitable amount of discretion needs to be applied when negotiating with certain interlocutors. The Count is expecting me.”

“And what would be the topic of said negotiation?”

“As I have just said,” Padmé answered with a smile she didn’t bother to repress since it was hidden by her cowl, “a certain amount of discretion needs to be applied.” She let her voice grow more authoritative, “Now call him. Neither of us would appreciate a delay in this meeting because you and your colleagues didn’t bother to keep yourselves appraised of my impending arrival.”

The Geonosian grunted, obviously displeased. But after a few moments, Padmé received coordinates to an orbital position closer to the planet.

“Go to that position. I need to contact the Count to verify your claim.”

“Please do,” she answered in a sweet voice, completely at odds with the sharp tone she had used seconds before.

As soon as the communication ended, R2 started beeping worriedly and she had no troubles interpreting the sounds.

“I know this puts us in the range of their canons R2, but we don’t have a choice, we have to appear as though this is a planned visit. Don’t let your guard down though, we might need to run away… Or go through their defenses to save Obi-Wan.”

R2 whistled gravely and inched closer to the terminal he used to hook himself onto the ship’s computers.

The minutes dragged on and Padmé could feel her resolve waver the longer she spent waiting in uncertainty. It should work. She had always vocally supported negotiating the peaceful exit of the Separatist Coalition from the Republic and had advocated against arming the Galactic Republic. Sometimes, agreements needed to be renegotiated and if the Separatists truly believed there was nothing left for them as members of the Republic, she wouldn’t prevent them from leaving. If people agreed to meet with an open mind and make concessions, they wouldn’t need to fall to barbaric practices such as war where the strongest would impose their terms on the loser, simply because some planets could not see eye to eye on certain interplanetary matters anymore. They were all adults here! With many lives depending on them. The least they could do was to ensure any change would be done with the civilians’ best interests at heart.

Even though some of the people on this planet had placed a bounty on her head, her reputation should still shield her, especially if her interlocutors thought she was acting on behalf on herself, instead of realizing they had the very person they were attempting to murder on their doorstep.

But as time wore on, doubt settled in her gut and she began to wonder if she hadn’t overestimated her own political weight. She was about to ask R2 to help her prepare the ship for as fast an escape as they could manage when her communication terminal flashed and her interlocutor came back online.

“The Count has confirmed your claims Representative Naberrie. Follow the path I am forwarding you and transmit the enclosed codes at the security border. Further instructions will be relayed to you once you have entered the atmosphere.”

Padmé took a deep breath and pressed a button to save her newly acquired access codes. Her bet had paid off. Either that or she was walking straight into a trap. Whichever it was, it was now too late to back down.

.

Padmé walked behind her Geonosian escort with R2 by her side, head bowed, colorful layers of skirts swishing around her ankles and flowing behind her. It was truly unfortunate that her pretense to come here didn’t allow for more practical clothing should she need to make a run for her life.

She looked down on her flame colored sleeves and forced her hands to loosen from the way they were clenched into fists by her sides. She did not know why the Count had chosen to humor her. If he was leading her into a cell, it was quite the elaborate trap he was setting up, she reflected as she was led into an ornately carved room that obviously served a diplomatic purpose.

R2 came to a stop at the door and whistled what she decided to interpret as an encouragement. The clever droid knew it would be allowed no further. Padmé looked inside the room and her breath caught in her throat.

Count Jard Dooku of Serenno was waiting for her inside. Alone.

He stood up and dismissed her escort before motioning to the seat directly to his right. It was a place of honor, and a different setting than she had expected.

She had assumed he would have invited some Geonosian officials to sit in on this meeting. His position inside the Confederation appeared to be even more important than what she had believed it to be. Beyond this obvious display of power over his allies, the seating arrangement was throwing her off balance. Had he had her sit opposite him, it would have meant he was understandably holding her use of deception to initiate this meeting against her.

This was different from everything she had envisioned. The situation presented all the markers of a diplomatic meeting between planets on friendly terms, between long-standing and trusted partners.

She walked up to Dooku, sketched a formal bow indicating the highest level of respect towards an equal, and took her seat. She didn’t miss the way his mouth twitched in amusement when she took off the shawl she had been using to conceal her face.

“Padmé Naberrie Amidala, Senator of Naboo,” he said after he too had taken his seat in their corner of the large table that could easily host about twenty persons at a time. “To what do I owe the honor of such an unexpected visit?”

His posture was open, she reflected while carefully choosing her words. She had prepared a discourse meant for aggressively negotiating with a hostile party, but it was far too harsh for the current dynamics. Furthermore, the Count clearly was entertained by her antics in finagling this meeting, expectant even, as though he already knew the true reason behind her presence here, which wouldn’t be surprising. Beyond this, he did not appear to be cross with her as she had feared, rather the contrary.

“You are currently holding a Jedi Knight, Obi-Wan Kenobi. I am afraid this particular Jedi has been assigned to my protection because of my outspoken resistance in regards to the armament of the Republic. Unfortunately, as you have been able to notice, I have misplaced said Jedi on my way to Naboo, where I was retreating to avoid further attempts on my life. If it is in the realm of the possible, I would like to formally request that you hand him over to me as soon as you can part from him.”

“As unfortunate as your escort’s lack of sense of direction is, I am afraid my influence here can only reach so far. Had we been on Serenno, I would of course have been touched by your plea and could have been moved by some remnant of affection regarding my Grandpadawan into securing his safe release into your care.”

Padmé perked up. Dooku was claiming kinship with Obi-Wan. Now this was interesting and belied the negative opening of his argument.

“But alas, though Geonosis is an ally of mine, I hold little sway over their internal affairs. Furthermore, we do not recognise the authority of the Republic here, Senator, and going through proper though obsolete channels shall do you no good. Your protector was trespassing in a territory where Jedi are unwelcome. As a result, he has been incarcerated and is waiting for his trial. But if Naboo were to join our alliance, I could easily convince the Geonosian authorities to hear your plea of clemency over a regrettable misunderstanding.”

Ah. So these were her negotiation grounds. The stakes were high, and what he was asking for, she couldn’t give him. But he knew that already, he was too well versed in galactic politics not to be aware that she was not a queen anymore and as such unable to make the decision he was asking of her.

“This is a tempting offer, Count, but I fear you are pleading your case to the wrong person. It is Queen Jamillia you should be petitioning with such a proposal.” Padmé affected an embarrassed posture, and pushed an invisible lock of hair behind her ear. Naboo would never join the Separatists, but there was no harm in dangling the possibility in front of the Count, if only to keep him well disposed towards her.

“Unfortunately, I fear my queen will not welcome your advances with the warmest regard. I trust you are aware that a prominent member of the Coalition you lead happens to be the Trade Federation conglomerate.”

She let the sentence hang in the air, hoping the Count would finish it for her to give her more information about his true goals. Fortunately, he didn’t disappoint.

“If you are insinuating your planet joining us hinges on them leaving the Confederacy, I am afraid the Trade Federation is too valuable a system to lose.”

“That is a pertinent concern. However, you will find the Naboo are forgiving people, who value peace more than most,” she said with a thin smile. Truth was, she had found her people were far more forgiving than herself as of late, but the Count didn’t need to know that, nor was it relevant the the current negotiations.

“The destruction they wrought on my precious planet and her inhabitants shall never be erased. Naboo could be willing to extend a hand in forgiveness, but only if the Trade Federation also takes a step towards us in return.”

She did not like the Count and she distrusted his motives on a fundamental level. But he seemed invested in courting Naboo to his cause and she would be a fool to let the opportunity of reaching an agreement with the leader of the Separatist faction pass her by with the threat of a war breaking out looming over her.

She was shrewd enough to know that her latest actions in the Senate were only serving to delay an inevitable conflict. But her planet was pacifist. Her people had reaffirmed this was a core value they all shared multiple times during her terms first as their Queen and then as their Senator. She would honor this belief she shared with them from the bottom of her heart, no matter how distasteful the thought of having to play nice with the Trade Federation was to her.

The Count motioned for her to continue and she allowed steel to bleed into her voice. If she had to renew diplomatic relationships with them, it would be on her own terms.

“If the Trade Federation were to formally recognize having invaded Naboo ten years ago, destroying our historical heritage, pillaging several of our national treasures, destroying many natural reserves, starving and executing the populace after placing them in detention camps barely suitable to hold droids, let alone any living being, and give Naboo the proper financial compensation alongside giving back that which they stole from us, and more specifically from our national buildings, then I believe Naboo could be convinced into keeping a neutral role in an eventual upcoming conflict.”

She could have sworn she saw the Count repress a smile at her passionate speech.

“To quote you, Senator, though you raise compelling arguments, I fear you are pleading your case to the wrong person. But despite this, I do find most of your terms acceptable and shall intercede in your favor should the Trade Federation agree to a meeting with you and your queen. I trust that in return of such a move on their part, Naboo would consent to opening negotiations to rekindle a commercial relationship with them?”

Though she wished for nothing more than to spit a refusal in his face, Padmé inclined her head regally and forced a placid smile to appear on her lips.

“Should such an event occur it would, of course, be highly beneficial for us all. But,” she raised a hand to emphasize her point, “this would only be possible after the Trade Federation publically issued a statement available to every planet of both the Republic and the Coalition of Independent Systems, expressing their deepest regrets over their misguided actions taken against Naboo a decade ago. My presence here is a show of trust in the Coalition’s integrity. Any further negotiation will require proof that you hold Naboo in as high regard as Naboo holds the Coalition.”

And didn’t saying those words leave a bitter taste in her mouth. But politics were made of constant negotiations with less than savory partners and if the future safety of her planet depended on her playing nice with the Federation, then she wouldn’t let her ego and resentment interfere with her duty to the people who trusted her to defend their best interests in the interplanetary sphere.

“We are pacifist people, Count, and believe any disagreement can be solved through reciprocated communication and an open mind, not through violence.”

The Count reclined in his seat and turned his eyes to the ceiling as he let out a long, theatrical exhale. Padmé hid a frown. He knew something she didn’t.

“I wish I could believe you, Senator. Unfortunately, recent events have given me reasons to doubt your words. I wish you to know I do understand how the Trade Federation’s terrible actions have impacted your planet in the most tragic ways, but I dare say I have proof that Naboo has renounced its pacifist ways.”

“I beg your pardon?” Padmé blinked before scrambling to put her composure back together. She had thought this day couldn’t surprise her any more than it already had, but clearly, she had been wrong. Naboo? Not pacifist anymore? This was such an outlandish claim the most inappropriate snort escaped her.

“Oh,” the Count steepled his fingers under his chin, “could it be this didn’t happen under your orders?”

He reached out to a holographic projector, and within moments Padmé was treated to the horrific sight of Jar Jar Binks, her handpicked representative in her absence, advocating for the Chancellor to be given emergency powers to create an Army of the Republic, and all this in her name.

She grit her teeth, fighting not to lose herself to her inner turmoil. She had always known Jar Jar wasn’t the brightest soul. Pure, innocent, and loyal, yes. But lacking in the finer aspects of cleverness. Or as Sabé would put it, ‘a political liability that should never be left anywhere near a public platform.’ Despite this, she had never thought his admittedly simple mind was so dull as to be unable to follow the most basic of orders! How dare he break her trust, Naboo’s trust, and drag her name in the mud, betraying everything she and her beloved planet had ever stood for?

The moment she was back on Coruscant, she was going to strangle him.

“I would advise against it. It would be difficult for you to uphold your end of our agreement from the inside a jail cell, Senator,” the Count’s dulcet baritone dragged her away from her dreams of blissful catharsis. She felt a blush heat her cheeks at the thought she had been thrown off balance so much she hadn’t been able to prevent herself from vocalizing her thoughts.

Though why the Count still refrained from seizing yet another opportunity to press his advantage, she couldn’t fathom. Perhaps he truly was interested in cordial relationships with Naboo. If this truly were the case, and the elaborate dance they had been partaking in since her landing was fully entrenched in truth, as him keeping on overlooking her diplomatic faux-pas seemed to indicate, then coming here might have been her best idea in quite some time and could save her planet’s position in the now inevitable conflict in light of Jar Jar’s actions.

“On the other hand, if you could make sure his person shall never be associated with you or with Naboo’s politics again, it would go a long way in ensuring future cordial relations between your planet and the Confederacy. I could, in fact, use this gesture on your part to help the Trade Federation recognise the harm brought to your planet.”

“I can assure you that the first thing I shall do upon meeting him again will be to fire him,” Padmé spat. She and her sentimentalism. She should have listened when her handmaidens had suggested picking anyone but Jar Jar as the Gungan representative of her senatorial team but she had allowed the memories of his more or less fruitful help during the Naboo invasion to cloud her judgement. She was paying the price for her error now. Jar Jar would be escorted back to Otto Gungah and she would petition for a competent replacement post haste. She would drag the Gungan all the way back to his people’s capital city herself if she had to.

Dooku aimed a genial smile in her direction that she didn’t bother attempting to return. She was too busy dredging up ways to do damage control regarding her representative’s recent actions to fake a smile at anyone.

Would she even be allowed to keep her position as a Senator?

Perhaps this successful meeting and the promise of the Trade Federation finally paying a tribute to Naboo could allow her to, she reflected.

“Then I believe we have reached an agreement,” the Count pushed his chair back and got to his feet. “If you would follow me, I do believe I have a token of good will to hand over to you to mark the beginning of this auspicious relationship between us.”

Padmé fought the urge to scramble to her feet in haste and took her time to gather her skirts around her before standing up and draping her cowl back over her head.

“I believe you shall find the roads much safer for you to tread on than they have been of late.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you have the time, I would love reading your thoughts about it


	4. An uninvited guest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Padmé and Obi-Wan meet up. A new alliance against the Sith Lord threatening the Galaxy is cemented.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you Fey for your help.   
> Beyond this, the usual: not mine, no money derived from it.

The Count led Padmé and R2 down several corridors to reach what looked like to be a wing reserved to guest quarters. When she stepped inside, she was greeted by the welcome though surprising sight of Obi-Wan, looking unharmed and dressed in freshly pressed tunics. He appeared to be cleaning his lightsaber which was lying in pieces on the table he was seated at.

She stopped in the doorway for half a second before forcing her feet to carry her in the room. He didn’t look like a prisoner, quite the opposite in fact.

She didn’t understand. He had left the Order, taken arms against them. Was it some sort of undercover mission? Had he become the Separatists’ leader just so he could better control them? If so, she hadn’t thought the Jedi could play that dirty. But no, this couldn’t be right. If Dooku was on a Senate sanctioned mission, he wouldn’t have let the CIS go that far, he would have attempted to smooth things over with the Republic or advocate for a peaceful separation from it instead of being so vocal about his desire to leave it no matter the cost and creating a secret droid army. 

Obi-Wan exchanged a glance with Dooku that was loaded with a meaning she didn’t understand, and she resolved to ask Obi-Wan about his relationship with the Count as soon as she could get him alone for a few minutes. During the time they had spent together, Anakin had hinted at no friendship between the two, even though he had pretty much recited to her his entire life during the time they had spent together.

The contentment and hope she had been able to briefly discern on the Count’s face disappeared until the man was all business again. 

“Grandpadawan. I will let you and the Senator become reacquainted while I secure your safe departure from this planet.” 

With a nod at Obi-Wan and a shallow bow in her direction, the man was out. While R2 settled in a corner of the room in a position best suited for surveillance, Padmé sat down at the table across from Obi-Wan and took the time to inspect her surroundings. She reevaluated her previous assessment of the place she was in: she wasn’t just in some guest quarters, these rooms could only be Dooku’s personal guest suite here, on Geonosis.

She opened her mouth to ask Obi-Wan about this when the words got stuck in her throat. The Jedi had closed his eyes, a small, bright blue kyber crystal in his hands. After a few seconds, the crystal seemed to start to glow, or at least catch the light more and high clear notes started emanating from it. 

Padmé, just like all Nubian children, had been tested for her Midichlorian count at birth. While her result hadn’t been enough to interest the Temple, it had been close enough to the threshold that a Creche Master had been dispatched to teach her and a few other Nubian children sharing her situation about the basics of how the Force worked. When the crystal left Obi-Wan hands to hover a few inches above them, Padmé stared at it, transfixed, before she closed her eyes to settle into a light meditative trance. 

Slowing her mind didn’t come to her as easily as it did when she was a child, but though she had had little time to practice of late, she hadn’t let those skills fade from her memory either. After some efforts, and with the help of the soothing crystal song, she managed. She acknowledged distantly that the crystal was still in the same position, and she wondered if Obi-Wan had waited for her to be ready to finish rebuilding his weapon.

The song of the crystal filled her mind, gaining in strength and depth, and she felt her lips lift up in a smile. It was a beautiful melody without sounds, rich and warm, yet it had a strong and disciplined quality. Scales and arpeggios rose and fell in a major key, the same pattern of notes repeating itself with slight variations, without any wrong note. She focused on it more until she could hear more layers into it, as though the tune was playing in canon. 

When the pieces of the lightsaber started levitating to encase the crystal, the soothing melody took a steely turn, percussions beginning to echo in the background like war drums. She kept her eyes closed until the song faded, and sighed. Anakin had taken great pleasure in dismantling and re-assembling his lightsaber often, probably enjoying the way she kept staring star struck at the way the parts levitated and rotated around each other, until the lightsaber was complete again. 

His crystal had never sung this sort of song. It had certainly been far louder than Obi-Wan’s, nearly deafening in its intensity, but it lacked the gentleness of the woodwinds and the melancholy of the cello she was currently hearing. Anakin’s had been a more exuberant and wilder melody, like a victorious battle chant where brass and percussions dominated everything. She remembered her disorientation the first time she had been assaulted by those tidal waves of sounds, and the headaches that had followed. In the end, she had opted not to try and feel his building of his weapon, and she had settled for simply watching him do it with her eyes.

Padmé’s eyelashes fluttered open and she stretched, her arms rising high above her head. She felt better, calmer than she had been when she had entered the room. She hadn’t been as calm for the past few months. When she focused on him, Obi-Wan was looking at her with a gentle smile that she couldn’t help but return in kind, grateful for the moment of peace he had given her.

The moment faded. Obi-Wan folded his hands over his lightsaber and leaned towards her. 

“While I am certain the story of your coming here without my Padawan from Tatooine of all places is bound to be a fascinating one, I have some news to share with you that I believe take precedence and will require your absolute discretion.”

Padmé knew she had stiffened when Anakin had been mentioned and she was also well aware this hadn’t gone unnoticed by Obi-Wan, yet he didn’t press the matter. He was right, whatever had happened with him had to be of the greatest import if he thought it was necessary to share it with her. He could start by explaining this strange relationship he had with the Count. She had been persuaded he had been in mortal danger earlier but her previous certitudes had been crumbling. And if there was anything she didn’t like, it was being left in the dark.

“I take it you are no stranger to my being allowed to land on this planet without any harm befalling me?”

A strained smile appeared on his lips before disappearing as though it had never been here.

“I do believe I took a part in it. Padmé, you are one of the few politicians I trust and respect. What I have discovered here goes beyond the message I relayed to the Council that I am sure you have watched and I am going to need your help because this situation goes beyond the Jedi’s sphere of influence. I am aware I am asking a lot of you, but I need you to swear to me no word of this meeting will ever reach any other ear than ours.”

Padmé narrowed her eyes at him. She wasn’t used to making promises without knowing their ins and outs and working out loopholes should the need arise for her to break her vow. 

“You said what you learnt could have repercussions in the political sphere.” Could Obi-Wan have been convinced to join the Separatists? No, he wouldn’t have done that.

“Yes.”

“I will hear you out. If I believe it will do more harm than good to keep this information secret, then I will investigate it and decide if I bring it out into the open, without necessarily citing you as my source. I can promise you this, but no more.”

Obi-Wan pressed his lips together in a grimace but nodded and Padmé steeled herself. With such a conversation opener, things had to be quite dire. She put Anakin out of her mind for now. There would be time to talk to Obi-Wan about him.

.

On second thoughts, ‘dire’ hadn’t quite been the right word to use. Was ‘hopeless’ a better term? Though going by the way Obi-Wan was looking at her with beseeching eyes, ‘desperate’ was also fitting the bill quite nicely.

“I put a Sith Lord at the head of the Republic,” she said for what had to be the twelfth time in as many minutes.

Obi-Wan shook his head as he had the past times she had said this and said, “you couldn’t have know. We never noticed him either. The Count only became aware of this because the Sith himself sought him out.”

Intellectually, Padmé knew Obi-Wan was right. It still didn’t prevent her from looking back and regretting. She had been so young back then, too young, and thrust in a situation far beyond her abilities of the time. As a result, the man she had thought her friend and a good advisor had manipulated her into pushing Valorum out of the office at a time when the public’s sympathy was sure to get him elected in his place. Worse, he had engineered her planet’s invasion for this exact purpose.  

She groaned. Perhaps the reservations some other systems had about Naboo electing a fourteen years old at the head of their planet hadn’t been so unfounded in the end.

Her record as Queen and Senator wasn’t bright: she had put a Sith at the head or the Republic, she had picked the person who had given said Sith the power to create an army and lead the Republic in a war against the Separatists, and finally her actions had granted said Sith emergency powers over the Republic. 

Her throat tightened and her eyes prickled. She had thought she was doing something good, that she was one of the good politicians, one of the uncorrupted few. But she had done worse than any of those she looked down upon. So much worse.

A light hand landed on one of her clenched fists to pry her fingers loose.

“None of that now, Padmé. There is no use in beating yourself up over past events when you did the best you could with the informations at your disposal. What matters now is getting him out of this office and arrested.”

Padmé nodded, though her heart wasn’t in it.

“We cannot beat him at the moment. He is too strong. But he isn’t the only one who can plan in the shadows. You will do what you need to to fulfill your obligations to your people and protect your planet from the war, and then we will see what can be done to discover and thwart all of Sidious’ plans.”

A part of Padmé was grateful to Obi-Wan for not speaking the name of this person she had once trusted so much. He was right. With Obi-Wan with the Jedi, Dooku as a Separatist leader, and herself as a prominent member of the Senate, they should be able to cover enough areas to fight the Sith on all grounds.

“I do not like this game the Count is playing.”

“You do not have to like it to agree that right now, it is the best solution we have.” Obi-Wan leaned closer to her, “I do not like nor approve of it either Padmé, nor do I like the compromises he is asking us to make. But this conflict will ask us to twist and bend our morals, if only so we can save many others from doing it. Let us not let the sacrifices he has already made go to waste.”

Padmé scrunched her eyes closed and took a deep inspiration through her nose. 

She didn’t like this. She really, really didn’t like this. But right now, she didn’t have another choice but to go with this plan. She didn’t agree with it, would continue looking for alternatives, but she was aware that she couldn’t confront a Sith Lord posing as the Chancellor of the Republic head on, especially since according to Obi-Wan, he had been planning this for years. Decades perhaps. While she was now aware she knew very little of Palpatine, she still knew that he was highly intelligent. And an extremely good actor. No, caution and deception would have to do, unfortunately.

“It is best to limit the amount of persons this will change, I agree. But we will need to be careful and not let ourselves lose sight of our goal: we are doing this for the people, so they can be free of the Sith’s influence. The moment it is over, no matter what we have done in the pursuit of this goal, we will accept the consequences, the Count included. Are we clear?

“We are.”

“Then I will do my research. And look for allies in other Senators.”

A loud beep sounded from a corner of the room and both of their eyes turned to settle on R2.

“And of course, R2 will help us too,” Padmé finished.

Some of the tightness at the corners of Obi-Wan’s eyes disappeared and he sagged back in his seat, his hand coming to rub his eyes.

“Good. We’ll have to devise a system to communicate. My Grandmaster and I will likely be able to meet on the battlefields. I will try to see if I can obtain some duties linking me with the Senate.”

“And I intend to get Naboo in a neutral enough space that will allow me to both treat with the Federation and keep my place in the Galactic Senate. As for communications, my handmaidens will help. Knowing what I do now, I can promise you that I shall keep silent tro anyone except them. But I will not be able to work alone.”

Obi-Wan’s eyes widened in alarm, “all of them?”

“Yes,” her tone was resolute. “I will not do anything without them. They know me better than anyone, they will know something is wrong and will pry until they get the truth. Beyond this, I trust them more than I trust you or even myself. None of them will fail me. They are to know the full truth and this is non-negotiable.”

She made to continue speaking when the deafening sound of an alarm started resonating through the room they were in, making it impossible to speak over it even by yelling.

After a few minutes of waiting, the alarm decreased in volume and the entrance door swung open to let Dooku hurry back into his quarters, his cape flowing behind him ominously. Padmé and Obi-Wan both stood up to go to him and R2 came up to her other side.

“Your Padawan broke in through the foundries and has been mowing down Geonosians left and right. Obi-Wan, I need your lightsaber back. Senator, hood up, I will escort you and your droid back to one of my ships.” He turned sharply to Obi-Wan, “You need to go back to your cell. Do not escape. If it comes down to it, I will break you out myself.”

“One of your ships?” Padmé asked. “What is wrong with mine?” 

“Skywalker affirmed he had put a tracker inside it in case you were kidnapped and he had to track you down or some other nonsense.”

“A what now?” she growled over Obi-Wan’s soft gasp of surprise. That was pushing things too far. Objectively, she could understand the use of such a tracker. But Anakin should have told her about this. 

The Count gave a voice to her thoughts, “I admit it wasn’t too bad of an idea, but it was in poor taste to not warn you about it.” He looked at Padmé, and the weight of his full focus turned on her made her breath hitch in her throat. “You should discard any electronic appliance he could have come into contact with during your stay together. We cannot afford any loose end Miss Naberrie. I shall see to their immediate destruction.”

Padmé found herself nodding empathetically and searched the lining of her dress for the commlink she had stored there. She fully agreed to this. Especially in light of her most recent discoveries. She froze. Palpa- no, Sidious. He was Anakin’s closest confident whom he spoke about with barely concealed reverence. No, he really couldn’t be allowed any insight in her privacy anymore until she thought she could trust him. She put the comm on the table behind her.

A loud trill sounded to her right. 

“Wait, slow down, R2, I’m not as fluent in binary as Anakin. Could you repeat what you’ve just said please?”

The astromech moved to stop in front of Obi-Wan and emitted another trill, though this one was slower and she could hear more modulations in it than the first time.

“Open it then, I’ll remove it for you,” Obi-Wan knelt down in front of R2, put his hand before the compartment the droid had opened for him and closed his eyes. 

“What is it?” Padmé asked imperiously. What was wrong with R2?

“Anakin apparently spent a lot of time tinkering with R2 when you were alone. R2 allowed it because you trusted Anakin and most of the changes were positive. But during an internal scan, R2 discovered Anakin downloaded a tracking software on R2 soon after ordering it to always stay close to you. Except R2 doesn’t like anyone tinkering with its software so it got rid of it during your trip to Geonosis but - aha!” he interrupted with a victorious exclamation and withdrew his hand to reveal… a very small shard of kyber crystal? It was the same light blue as Anakin’s. It also gave away the slightest hint of percussions if she focused on it hard enough. Obi-Wan tucked it in one of his utility belt’s pockets.

Beside her, the Count emitted a low whistle. “Your Padawan was certainly thorough. He must really not have wanted to not lose her to go as far as to plant a shard of his own lightsaber  as close to her as he could.”

He turned to R2 “You’re all clean then?”

The astromech emitted an affirmative sounding beep.

“Good. We have lost enough time already.” 

He looked at Padmé and once again, the weight of his focus made her pause, as though she were a cornered animal before a predator. She did not like the feeling one bit.

“Your ship is out and mine have a blanket permission to enter and leave the atmosphere without any border control,” the Count pursued. “You shall leave for Naboo to finalize your part of our deal while I uphold mine.”

A snap of his fingers and a group of four Magnaguard droids came in the room and settled themselves around Obi-Wan.

“Lightsaber, Grandpadawan. Now.” the Count ordered.

Padmé locked eyes with Obi-Wan. In his eyes, she saw the same incertitude that was certainly reflected in hers. But eventually, he changed his grip around his lightsaber and handed it over to the Count before allowing the Magnaguards to surround him and lead him out. 

Padmé watched him leave until she couldn’t see him anymore. Then, she put her hood back up under the Count’s impatient glare.

She still didn’t fully trust the man and doubted she ever would. But right now, she had no other choice but to put her faith in him. And if the story he had spun to Obi-Wan was correct, as she was convinced it was, she needed to take a leaf out of Obi-Wan’s book and take a leap of faith. She would follow the Counts’ plan for now, no matter how she hated being ordered around this way. But he better not believe this dynamic would stay the same in the long run. If they were going to take down a Sith Lord together, they would do it as equals.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading, if you have the time, I would love reading your thoughts about this chapter.


	5. A Nexu, an Acklay, and two Jedi walk into an arena

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Execution time! One could hope for things to be easier when one of the people orchestrating your death is an ally... But this is Jard Dooku we're speaking about and the man doesn't know the meaning of 'easy'.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The usual: no claim of ownership of any kind, I'm doing this for my personal enjoyment, and hopefully yours too.

Obi-Wan closed his eyes under the glare of the sun and leant his head against the pillar he was shackled to. While Dooku had done his utmost to keep the torture to a minimum during the past week, citing the need for a good show on the day of the executions, the Geonosians had still tried to exact some informations out of him. Obi-Wan wrapped his trembling hands around the chain that bound his wrists to the top of the pillar. When the spasms eased, he used the chain to push himself upright. His hunched over position would do him no good: wind made the sand fly everywhere and it was preferable that it managed to find as few nooks in his tunics as possible, lest too many of it got stuck in his barely scabbed wounds when he inevitably reopened them.

A cheer went through the arena and Obi-Wan spread out his senses to find the reason why. He quickly identified the cause: the melody was barely recognisable, but he would know this tune anywhere. Anakin was being led into the arena and Obi-Wan prodded their training bond. His Padawan’s shields were far weaker than they used to be. Even though it was dulled by sheer exhaustion, the unexpected maelstrom of pain, grief, desperation, and ‘Padmé, Padmé, not Padmé, not her too’ struck him like a physical blow. He snapped his eyes open to focus on his Apprentice for a split second before closing them again. The blinding intensity of the midday sun was still too much for them, but one glimpse had been enough. Anakin’s outward appearance did not match what the Force told him of his state: just like they did for him, the Geonosian had made some efforts to make Anakin look presentable for his execution. Dooku had hinted they intended to broadcast it to the Republic and use it to kickstart the war since all of Sidious’ pieces were in the right place, so it would make sense for them to conceal the true extent of the mistreatment of their Jedi prisoners. 

Obi-Wan sent a shove through the training bond he shared with Anakin and was mildly reassured to feel a reaction in return. It wasn’t anything similar to alertness, but it was something.

Obi-Wan stomped down on his worry and focused on his breathing. Now wasn’t the time to be distracted, not when he was going to have to try and keep both of them alive until an opportunity for escape presented itself.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

In the buzz of sounds surrounding him, Dooku and some Geonosians were addressing the mass of beings who had come to see two Jedi die.

_There is no ignorance, there is knowledge._

Breathe. In comes the air, out goes the pain.

_There is no passion, there is serenity._

All around him, time seemed to slow its course. He could feel everything: the hot wind full of sand dust carding through his hair, bright dots of life in the stands, hostile emotions, so very hostile, and under him, the crackle of electricity coupled with the uncomfortable emotional void he associated with everything droid. 

_There is no chaos, there is harmony._

There was also something hungry, hungry, and angry. Starved predators. And he and Anakin were their preys, defenseless, nearly within reach, if only they could get through those bars to get to them. 

_There is no death, there is the Force_

In comes the air, out goes the pain, helped by the repetition of the mantra that had been drilled into Obi-Wan since his first meditation sessions led by Master Yoda in the Room of a Thousand Fountains with the other other crechelings.

_There is no emotion, there is peace._

And within this peace, there was blue and the lament of a clarinet. 

His precious bound crystal, his lightsaber. The one thing a Jedi truly owned for it was a part of them, an extension of their bodies, of their souls. It was here, in the arena, but where? Safe, protected, it pulsed at him, all barely noticeable hues of blue and cascades of harp scales melding into the tune of his soul. With a friend, an ally. 

And it was. Obi-Wan turned his eyes to look at Dooku who was standing on the balcony overlooking the arena, his eyes finally used to the ambient luminosity. The Count met his stare evenly and nonchalantly flicked the left side of his cape behind his shoulder, revealing two lightsabers hanging side by side. A probe with the Force told Obi-Wan both lightsabers were secured to the Count’s belt and he wouldn’t be able to call his to himself easily. The Count let his cape fall back in place, hiding the lightsabers from view again. Obi-Wan caught the message: this is your safety net but I cannot afford to be seen giving you an easy out. I’ll let you call it only if you can’t get out of this by yourself. He frowned. The situation was serious and the Count was treating it too much like a test of Obi-Wan’s abilities. But Obi-Wan did not let it irritate him. He wasn’t the insecure Knighted-too-soon boy he had been a little over a decade ago and he could understand all too well the need for discretion on the matter of their secret partnership. 

A clamor rose around the arena and two doors opened on the ground floor.

The fight for both his and Anakin’s lives had begun.

A look to his right made his blood run cold despite the ambient heat. Anakin was still having difficulties maintaining himself upright and a Nexu was prowling in his direction. But right in front of Obi-Wan himself, there was an Acklay in all its sharp toothed and long limbed glory. The sight brought back memories of a crash to Vendaxa followed by a painful fortnight spent running away from the planet’s main predator and goosebumps spread on Obi-Wan’s skin. 

It seemed one of them was out to take its revenge for all of its fellow Acklay Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon had killed, Obi-Wan thought wryly.

The Nexu Obi-Wan was still surveying from the corner of his eyes was slowly but surely making its way to Anakin, and Obi-Wan had to urge himself to be patient. Rushing headlong into the fight was a surefire way to get one of them killed and he needed to dispatch those animals one after the other. 

The Acklay, probably less used to the noise than the Nexu or perhaps less hungry, seemed more interested in waving its pincer-like forelegs at the Geonosians in the stands. Or it was until the guard that had accompanied it into the arena decided it was time for the predator to focus on its mission and made the mistake of prodding it with his electrospear.

In the time of a blink, the guard was pinned to the ground by the Acklay and then promptly thrown into the air to get its head bitten off. 

Obi-Wan let out a breath. There was his window of opportunity.

He turned his focus on the Nexu. It had dispatched its own guard in the meantime, and was coiling back to launch itself at Anakin.

The Nexu jumped, and Obi-Wan pushed.

The Nexu’s claws missed, only scratching open Anakin’s cheeks and eliciting a pained whine from him instead of ripping his jugular open.  

Obi-Wan focused again and gave if another Force push, and another, until the Nexu laid on the ground in a crouch far away from Anakin, biting at empty air, looking for its invisible assaillant.

Obi-Wan used its distraction to try and call his lightsaber to him but it was still securely fastened to the Count’s belt. For a split second, he wondered what game the Count was playing at before projecting all of his frustration in the Force, shaping them like a spear he threw at the Nexu’s mind to stun it. 

He yelled through their bond at Anakin to get his attention but he only met exhaustion and pain as an answer. He kept pushing and screaming: Anakin needed to become aware of his surroundings again.

Finally, he got an answer, it was groggy, but it was there. Obi-Wan sighed and felt his confidence grow. He was going to have his brother by his side again, things were looking up. If they combined their efforts, they could escape this place without having to rely on the limited help the Count could provide, he knew it.

Just as he finished the thought, a dark shadow fell over him. Obi-Wan raised his head but was too late to evade the knife like leg coming down to stab him. 

Instead of cleaving him in half, the leg only struck the sandy ground between Obi-Wan’s feet with a dull thud and a flurry of sand. With a high pitched screech, the Acklay brought its other front leg down. There was a flutter in the Force and it missed again. Dooku. By the third occurrence, Obi-Wan had gathered his wits again and was ready to roll out of the Acklay’s next attack. The leg hit the chain linking him to the pillar and broke it, setting him free. Obi-Wan lost no time after that. He called his lightsaber to him again. This time he felt no restraint keeping it tied to the Count’s belt and it flew right into his outstretched hand. 

Obi-Wan ignited the blade right in time to cut the leg that was coming down onto him. The Acklay reared back with a scream of pain and Obi-Wan took advantage of its distraction to dive under its belly to cut its hind legs. Caught by its momentum, the Acklay fell on its back and Obi-Wan seized this opportunity to jump on its exposed belly to plunge his lightsaber deep into its heard. 

The Acklay made one last reflexive movement, and Obi-Wan dived to lay flat on its belly when all of its remaining limbs retracting to close on its body, before it laid still for good. 

Obi-Wan let himself slide onto the ground. He freed his hand from their restraints with a twirl of his lightsaber and dragged a sleeve over his forehead and eyes to clear the sweat and he turned to look at Anakin’s pillar. His Padawan had moved on top of it and was in the process of strangling the Nexu with his chain but the beast was moving too much and threatened to make Anakin lose his equilibrium, despite the half of an electrospear Anakin had certainly driven into its side at some point. 

Obi-wan took aim and threw his ignited lightsaber. With the Force’s help, it flew straight through the Nexu, pinning it to the pillar. Anakin grabbed the handle of the lightsaber and dragged it to the top of the pillar, cliving the Nexu’s head in two and sectioning the chain tying him to said pillar in the process. He followed the movement of the Nexu’s body and jumped to the ground to finish dispatching his cuffs thanks to Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

To his great relief, Obi-Wan noted that the jump was smoother than what he had expected it to be given Anakin’s earlier state and he allowed himself a burst of pride at how well Anakin was handling the situation despite what he knew were severe injuries.

The pair regrouped in the middle of the arena, back to back.

“What are you doing here? Have you seen Padmé? Do you know they’re building a droid army in here?” Anakin asked without letting giving Obi-Wan the time to respond between his rapid fire questions. “She was with me, I don’t know how they found her but suddenly she wasn’t anymore so I tracked her here, they’ve kidnapped her!”

Anakin turned towards the balcony where Dooku was advancing to speak to them.

“He did it!” he hissed. “The traitor, he’s the one who wants Padmé dead.”

Obi-Wan took Anakin by the sleeve and tried to drag him to the door the Acklay had exited from. The masses of electricity, metal and void were moving from under their feet and slowly starting to get to their level. Dooku was giving them time to escape by putting on airs, they needed to seize their chance before it was too late.

Except Anakin wouldn’t bulge. He kept trying to murder the Count with his eyes alone, fingers clenched around the handle of Obi-Wan’s lightsaber.

“Come on Padawan, it’s our chance to escape this place.”

“No. He knows where she is. I’ve left a shard of my crystal with her, I know she’s on this planet and I will get my answers!” 

With that, he shook Obi-Wan off and began running towards the space where the protuberance of the wall the balcony was built on and the rest of the arena walls were, the perfect place to climb up to Count.

“We need to leave Anakin, he has the high ground, it’s a bad idea!”

But Anakin didn’t listen and Obi-Wan could only run after his Padawan until he reached the balcony’s supporting wall, unwilling to follow Anakin who was jumping up from corner wall to corner wall, Obi-Wan’s lightsaber still in his hand.

His back to the wall, Obi-Wan mourned their lost chance for escape and watched helplessly as dozens upon dozens of battle droids poured into the arena, blasters aimed at him. Cautious glances upwards showed him Anakin was reaching the top of the wall. But the moment he vaulted above the balcony’s railing, there was a rustle of metal sliding against metal – the bounty hunter dressed in Mandalorian armor, Obi-Wan’s mind supplied – and several blaster shots were fired. Obi-Wan heard the whirl and crash of a lightsaber deflecting the bolts and his Padawan gracelessly crashed back on the ground beside him.

Obi-Wan bent down to wrestle his lightsaber out of Anakin’s hands while the younger man fought the disorientation of the fall and he stepped in front of him to assume a defensive position.

All around him, the battle droids drew their blasters and aimed at him and Anakin who was getting to his feet behind him, his embarrassment and anger leaking into the Force despite his excellent shields.

It seemed he was going to test how much he deserved his reputation of master of Soresu.

And then, a familiar snap and hiss followed soon after by a just as familiar voice.

“Party is over.”

Chaos erupted everywhere as flares of light erupted in the Force as many Jedi revealed their presence.

In the arena’s seat rows, about a hundred of lightsabers sprung to life, prompting the assembled Geonosians to flee. On the ground, the droids opened fire, some of them at Obi-Wan and Anakin, some of them at the spectator area to try and kill the Jedi there.

Caught in the cross-fire, many spectators fell to their deaths. They were joined on the ground of the arena by a dozen of Jedi who came to help Obi-Wan and Anakin defend themselves against the sea of droids in front of them, though the vast majority of them remained in the rapidly emptying stands: to get oneself trapped in the pit of the arena was akin to suicide. 

The droids kept pouring into the arena, from the spectator area just like into the arena itself, shooting everything that moved whether it was friend or foe. Master Windu jumped from the balcony, landing beside Anakin. He gave him a spare lightsaber, allowing him to join the fight, before murmuring something in a comm on his wrist and engaging the Mandalorian fighter who had followed him to the ground. 

.

Time moved in a flurry of ducking, deflecting, and slicing until the sky darkened. Aircrafts full of people dressed in white Mandalorian-inspired armors gathered above the arena, some of the clones Obi-Wan had discovered sniping the droids from above while some others aimed laser canons at the ground, destroying row after row of droids. 

Obi-Wan plunged out of the path of one of the green lines of the laser cannons. He used the momentum to roll and get back on his feet, swiping his lightsaber to deflect blaster bolts before turning to the unprotected back of Jango Fett. When Master Windu as opted to close ranks with the other Jedi in the arena to maximise their collective abilities to survive, the Mandalorian had chosen to settle for a rematch with Obi-Wan instead and had eventually managed to isolate him away from his fellow Jedi.

Obi-Wan brought his lightsaber down, but stopped a hairbreadth away from the concealed weakness he knew from experience existed his style of armor. Should he capture him? Kill him? He was one of the Count’s ally and could be of use later on but neither Dooku nor Obi-Wan could afford the Order getting their hands on him lest Fett revealed something that could speed up Sidious’ plans. Could Obi-Wan also afford the increased visibility that killing this fighter renowned for his ability to kill Jedi would give him? There was also no need to take him in custody for the attempts on Padmé’s life: the three of them had had the time to agree that she would let it slide and she would be more valuable to Sidious alive now with how much Anakin cared for her. 

Obi-Wan was left frozen when he took in exactly what his association with the Count would cost him: beyond the dissimulation, he would sometimes have to act in ways going opposite to the Order’s advantage while pretending he had done all he could. 

There was a stillness in the Force then the Mandalorian took in Obi-Wan’s position and his window of opportunity closed. Fett threw himself at Obi-Wan, armored head butting over his naked skin and filling his vision with stars. Obi-Wan took a step back to secure his footing and Fett broke away from him to activate his jetpack. 

Obi-Wan danced to avoid the mostly indiscriminate shooting of the droids and the clones’ friendly fire, to pick up a discarded blaster on the ground to shoot Fett out of the sky. The man landed harshly on the ground. The shock absorber integrated to the right knee of his armor broke under the impact, incapacitating him. Obi-Wan threw himself at the other man. There were people watching. Cameras. He couldn’t appear to be anything but focused on this fight. The silver and blue of Fett’s armor popped out too much compared to the salmon of the droids and the golden hue of the sand and stones surrounding them so eyes would be drawn to them. 

They rolled on the ground until Fett broke away from their fight. One moment he was trying to pummel Obi-Wan into the ground, the next he attempting to get up despite his armor still being gripped, resorting to crawling to another corner of the arena when it refused to let him move.

“Boba,” Obi-Wan heard the man cry out, hand outstretched. He followed the direction Fett was aiming for and his heart skipped a beat: the man’s clone, the one he had adopted as his child, laid unconscious on the ground next to his father’s helmet he had probably been trying to retrieve, right on the path of the green laser beam from one of the clones’ cannons.

Obi-Wan ran. He skipped, dived, deflected, and ran fast, fast, and faster, the Force helping him go beyond what a normal human body could do. This was an innocent child. He wouldn’t die if Obi-Wan could help it. 

He dived on the boy and rolled them both out of the beam’s path in the nick of time, with only a stray part of his tunic being singed by the heat.

Obi-Wan adjusted his grip on the child, grabbed the helmet, and withdrew to a part of the arena close to one of the gates the droids had entered the arena through and where the fighting was less dense. He put the boy down in as protected a place as he could and braved the battleground again to reach his father who had managed to withdraw to another secluded location. The man didn’t protest when Obi-Wan joined him in his attempts to remove the broken part of his armor until a piece finally moved and the man howled in pain while blood spilled on Obi-Wan’s hands. They shared a look and changed tactics. Obi-Wan helped Fett stand up and hooked his arms under the other man’s shoulders to help him walk until they reached the part of the arena where he had left his son in.

There. He had done what he could for the child who had opened his eyes and was groggily watching them come to him, incomprehension and fear clear on his face and into the Force. 

Fett looked at Obi-Wan with a mixture of suspicion, loathing, and gratitude.

“Vor entye,” he acknowledged through gritted teeth.

Obi-Wan nodded, accepting the debt Fett claimed to now have towards him. “Don’t shoot me in the back.”

A growl was his only answer. He understood why: the man clearly had no love lost for the Jedi, yet his son had been saved by one of them and his own life had been spared because he was the father and protector of said child.

Obi-Wan turned on his heel and went back to fight alongside his fellow Jedi. If the two managed to get out of the planet without getting caught, they would surely meet again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back!
> 
> Thank you for reading. If you have the time, kudos or comments are always welcome (yes, even if you just want to talk about the weather. It's raining here actually, the climate is quite far away from the blistering heat of Geonosis. The scenery is greener too), but they are in no way an obligation.
> 
> Until next time!


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